Heels
by PsychologyGeek81
Summary: Juliette prepares to host her first meeting at the Sector 45 base, but its not the meeting agenda that's giving her trouble.


**authors note: I'm going to do another double post this week since I forgot to post one last week. Also, fun fact, this is the first oneshot I ever wrote for this fandom.**

I'm looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, tentatively shifting my hair over my shoulder and back again, indecisive as to which way it looked best. My hands twitch as I think to run the hairbrush through it one more time, but eventually decide against it, assuring myself that it looked fine. We have a meeting. In one hour. It's the first one we've hosted and it's the first time that there will be this many sector leaders all in one room and I'm so nervous. Normally I've attended one on one meetings with the other leaders, in small rooms, where I didn't have a dozen eyes on me.

I let out a shaky breath, reassuring myself that everything will be fine before exiting the bathroom. The room is quiet. The closet door is open on the other side of the room and I can hear the faint sounds of Warner getting dressed. I stride over to the chair in the corner where my chosen dress is layed out perfectly. Warner insisted on choosing it for me, and after a few minutes of teasing I finally gave in and agreed, and I had to say I was impressed. The dress was dark, fitted and formal, exuding professionalism. The skirt hugged my legs without being restricting and the top half of the dress floated over my curves effortlessly. I zipped it up, running my hands over the smooth material of the skirt before adjusting the small tan belt that looped around my waist. I was just about to head into the closet to find a pair of shoes but then I looked down and saw that there was already one waiting for me.

The sleek black pumps sat neatly under the chair side by side, their back ends elevated a few inches off the ground. I stare down at them, eyeing the hint of my reflection shining in the patent leather. They looked rather quaint when on the floor but they still filled me with a kind of nervousness. I picked one up, studying the thin black spindle attached to the shoe's heel. How was I going to do this?

I carried them over to the bed and sat at the foot of it, dropping the shoes to the floor. I tentatively lowered my right foot into the first shoe, feeling like Cinderella stepping into her glass slipper. The fit was perfect, the cool material snug against my foot without pinching. I wriggled my toes, adjusting them to the tightness of the front of the shoe. So far they didn't feel that bad, so I quickly slid my left foot into the other, adjusting much quicker to the feel of the leather surrounding my foot. I took a breath, now came the hard part.

I rose off the bed, gripping it for support as my feet swayed under my weight. I'd seen this done a million times before, women in the street, on the television, I was pretty sure that it couldn't be that hard. Shaking off any hesitance I took one cautious step forward, burying the front of the shoe into the plush carpet. I take a breath, surprised that I had not fallen on my face. I continue to slowly move one foot in front of the other, quickening my pace when I think I can maintain my balance, feeling much more confident. However after a few more gentle strides my ankles buckle underneath me and I fall unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thump.

Warner rushes into the room, his shirt half untucked and his tie slung undone around his neck. He is beside me in an instant as I sit on the floor, wishing that in this moment it would swallow me up so he couldn't see my face as fire burned in my cheeks.

"Are you okay?" He asks, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"I'm fine," I answer, my voice shaky from embarrassment.

"God Juliette, what happened?"

My face feels like the sun, my blood is pulsing in my ears and in my cheeks, so hard I can feel it. I must resemble a tomato. I chew my lip and look away from him, directing my attention to the small leather death traps that lie scattered across the carpet a few inches away. He stands up, offering me his hand. I take it as he pulls me up, his eyes no longer searching for an answer. He must be able to sense my humiliation.

"You've never worn heels before, have you?" he observes. I bashfully shake my head no, letting my hair fall like a messy curtain around my face. He gives an amused sigh before tucking my hair behind my ears, cupping my face in his hands.

"Don't be embarrassed," he soothes, encouraging me to look him in the eyes. I have a hard time at first, wanting to shrink into myself, to shatter into a million pieces rather than meet his gaze, but the soft green and hints of concern eventually leave me unable to look away.

"I...Um. I never got the chance to-" I begin, my voice quivering, but he cuts me off by brushing one finger delicately across my lips.

"You have no need to explain yourself, love," he assures me. I exhale slowly, feeling some of the colour drain from my face. "Now, the more important thing is are you hurt?"

"No," I answer. The only thing that hurt was a gentle soreness where my backside hit the carpet, but that I could handle, the initial discomfort in my ankles was now almost dull in comparison. He brings his hands down, smoothing them over my hips and across the small of my back and I stifle a laugh as he thinks that I don't notice him checking to see if I've torn my dress.

"Would you like me to teach you," he says after a few moments of silence, satisfied that I had not ruined my dress in any way. My thoughts had wavered and his voice snaps me back to attention.

"What?"

"The shoes, love. Would you like me to teach you how to walk in them," he explains, flashing me an amused smile.

"Have much practice with heels do you?" I retort, wanting to take some of the embarrassment off of myself. His eyebrows arch upwards and amusement begins to swim in his eyes as he stifles a smirk.

"Just because I have no personal experience with them does not mean that I do not know how to maintain balance whilst wearing them, something with which I believe you need assistance," he replies, staring intently at me as take in his smug expression. I glare at him and he simply smiles innocently in return. I give up.

"Fine," I say, moving across the room to pick up the discarded shoes, dropping them onto the floor between our feet. I shuffle my feet back into them, gripping his arms for support as I make them comfortable. I look up at him.

"Turn around," he instructs. I turn so that my back is pressed up against his chest, his hands around my waist.

"Now start by lifting the front of your foot upwards so your weight is resting on the heel," he explains, and I follow his advice. However I must have done something wrong because my foot begins to tip from side to side. My hands reach for his.

"Too much weight," he begins, still maintaining a firm grip of my waist. "Keep your toes off the ground but only just, or else you will lose your balance." I nod as I follow his instructions, and surely enough no wobbling.

"Now push the front of your foot back down and move your left leg," he continues. I do as he says, slowly moving forwards. It works for a second until I put my left foot onto the floor and I'm wobbling again. His hands snare my waist and I can feel him laughing softly against my back.

"Something funny?"

"No," he starts as he tries to stifle his chuckling." I was just wondering if you can be trusted to try this time without my assistance." I shoot him a look and he lets go of my waist. I position my feet together again.

"Now remember, start by shifting weight onto the heel and then move to the toes." I follow his words, managing to move a few steps without falling over. He's behind me, muttering repetitively just behind my ear in exact time with my movements, _heel, toe, heel, toe_. I walk a few tentative feet across the bedroom before he encourages me to slowly increase my pace, holding his hand out in case I should need it. My success improves slowly, and I am no longer relying on him for support as I slowly pace around the room. I feel like I am finally grasping the ability to walk in heels when my foot flies out of the back end of the shoe and I almost go crashing to the floor.

Warner catches me in his arms before I can do much more than lose my footing, pulling me against his chest. I want to sigh in frustration, but I can't seem to find the energy to be mad at myself. I slip off the other shoe and he guides me to the bed where we both sit. I'm fighting the urge to giggle, and it isn't until he begins quietly laughing to himself that they begin to erupt from my throat.

"I can't do this," I laugh, attempting to steady my breathing and stop my face feeling like it's about to rip in two. He too tries to compose himself, sitting up straight on the edge of the bed.

"You can, love," he starts, his breath still shaky from our previous outburst. "I just think that maybe you should stick to flats, just for tonight."

I agree. Standing up and collecting the shoes in my hand, I'm about to head to the closet and find some flats when I notice he is still only half ready. "You should probably finish getting ready, I dare to wonder what the other sector leaders would think if you held the meeting dressed like that."

He laughs to himself, glancing down at his half tucked shirt and the tie hanging lazily around his neck. "Whatever they may think, it would still be less unfortunate than if you were to give the meeting wearing those shoes," he smirks, rising from the bed. I roll my eyes at him before we both head towards the closet, trying not to collapse into another fit of laughter. This was going to be an interesting evening.


End file.
